Embarrassment is the first emotion I feel as my father drops me off at my first job with a flying kiss. My face crinkles in disgust as I wave goodbye. I’m never allowing him to drop me off anywhere anymore.

 

I look at the small building in front of me with a slight smile. After my parents bugged me about staying home all day while reading books and doing absolutely nothing to help with my future all summer, they encouraged me to get a job (and by encourage, I actually mean forced). Fortunately, my mother’s best friend has been looking for someone to do some stuff around her studio and came to me immediately after she found out I was “searching” for a job.

 

My mother’s friend, Mrs. Lee, runs a dance studio. The fact that I would be doing all her dirty work—cleaning, if you may—actually didn’t bother me as much as it was supposed to. Cleaning meant that I would have to stay after class is done. When class is done, there are no people. When there are no people, I can dance freely. Get where I’m going?

 

As I turn the doorknob, the smell of sweat hits me instantly. I grimace at the scent that permeates the room. There aren’t many people here, so a class probably just recently ended. I walk in and look around for Mrs. Lee.

 

“Ahri! You’re here!” a voice speaks up from behind me. I turn to meet Mrs. Lee’s son, Taemin. We’ve been friends for years since his mother is my mother’s best friend. Although we go to the same university, we don’t see each other much, due to differences in schedules. He pulls me into an embrace, “My mom told me she hired you. What did she bribe you with?”

 

I laugh gently and pull away from his body, “Nothing, I just needed a job.”

 

“Says the laziest girl I have ever met. Let me guess, your parents forced you?” Taemin asks. I shrug, not answering because I know that he knows that he’s right. We talk for a few minutes until his mother comes. who chases him home because he’s “destroying the peace.” Taemin leaves while laughing at his mother’s insult.

While Mrs. Lee teaches her ballet class, I sort out files by alphabetical order in her office. It’s definitely boring, but it does keep my mind occupied. Maybe getting a job isn’t going to be so bad. Plus, I get paid.

 

As I come to the letter R, a soft voice interrupts me from my work. “Ahri, class is over. I usually go home right after class, but I have to teach you a few things. You can finish filing tomorrow, okay?” I turn my head towards the voice. Mrs. Lee has very gentle features. Despite her age of forty-something, she still looks as graceful as can be. Her hair is a very dark brown and is tied up into a ponytail. Her ¾-sleeved shirt and her pants are both black, along with her ballet shoes. I nod, and she shows me around the studio.

 

After thirty minutes of walking around, I think she is finished. I am proved wrong when she pulls out a silver key from the pocket of her pants. “What’s that for?”

 

“We have a secret storage room.” Mrs. Lee grins. “It’s actually the reason why I hired you. You’ll be spending quite some time here.” We are back in her office, and I notice a small door behind her desk that I oddly did not notice during my hours of filing her papers in this very room.

 

She unlocks the door and allows me to go in first. It only takes a second to realize that this room is full of dust. There are boxes everywhere, leaving an unorganized mess. The light on the ceiling is flickering every few seconds or so, but the thing I realize the most is that I can see the studio.

 

I take a step towards the glass that separates me from the main building. “Is this a two-way mirror?”

 

“Yes. You can see the studio, but the studio can’t see you.” Mrs. Lee acknowledges.

 

The storage room makes me feel stuffy, so we head back to the office. Mrs. Lee doesn’t fail to lock the door behind her, stating that “a erted male may set up secret cameras if he found out about this.” The sentence makes me chuckle.

 

Before Mrs. Lee leaves, she gives me the key to the storage room with a smile. “You can start after you’re done filing those papers.”

It’s been a week since I started working, and it’s actually not that bad. I’ve spent my time in the storage room, dusting the hell out of the place because wow, there’ a lot of dust. I also organize all the boxes into groups, which is definitely hard since I have the arm strength of a noodle. If my mom saw me, she’d be so proud.

 

The room is starting to clear up. I look around me, feeling accomplished with all the hard work I’ve done. I never thought that cleaning would be so satisfying until now.

 

“Ahri, dear, can you mop the floor before you leave?” I see Mrs. Lee’s head pop up from the door. I nod with a smile, “Yes, ma’am! Have a good night!”

 

The elder smiles and waves goodbye. I move one more box to the corner of the room, and then dust my jeans. Smiling, I exit the storage room, not forgetting to grab the mop on the way out. My favorite part about working in a dance studio is when everyone is gone, and I have the whole place to myself. I connect my phone to one of the speakers in the room, click on my Disney playlist, and dance and mop at the same time.

 

I feel so free during these moments. It’s like, suddenly, I become a new person. There’s really no feeling that could top this lightness I feel in my heart. My worries escape my mind, I forget my responsibilities, I forget all the sadness that surrounds my heart, and I feel so damn free. I can sing as loud as I want to, I can laugh as crazily as I want to, and I can dance like no one's looking, because there isn’t anyone looking.

 

Except for the fact that this time, there is someone looking.

 

I immediately move as I see a figure open the door, taking my phone out of my pocket and pausing the music. The person lets himself in (it’s a guy, I assume from the clothing), and I don’t have it in me to complain. I’ve never seen him before. If I had, I would remember that face.

 

His hair is an ash-blonde mess, credits given to the hat he’s holding on his left. He flips his hair so majestically, and it makes me a little angry seeing how each strand of his hair goes back to a nice and neat piece of living art. I can see his face more clearly now, recognizing a few aspects of his face as Taemin’s. They definitely have similar lips, that’s for sure. Although, I have to say, this guy is far more attractive. I mean, come on, I see Taemin so much that he’s practically my brother.

 

While admiring the mystery boy’s amazing jaw line, I render the curve at the end of his plump lips. “Why’d you stop?” I’m brought back to reality.

 

I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. He saw me make a fool out of myself! What am I supposed to say? I feel my palms getting sweatier by the second. But wait... more importantly, who is he and what is he doing here? The question flies out of my lips before I can even think about asking it.

 

“I should be asking you that.” The mystery boy replies, and I feel myself roll my eyes. Off the bat, I can tell he’s just another pretentious douchebag who likes to mess around with people. “First of all, I work here. Second of all, we’re closed. So, I’m sorry, but you’re gonna have to come at another time if you want to take a class. Preferably between the hours of 3 p.m. and 9 p.m. on Mondays to Thursdays, and 7 a.m. to 11 p.m. on Fridays and Saturdays. Read the door. Thanks.”

 

I quickly turn away to continue mopping the floor, and then I hear the door close. With a sigh of relief, I take my phone back from my pocket, intending on continuing the one-person party. I am stopped by a hand that lashes out and takes my phone away. “First of all, High School Musical? Second of all, I’m an exception. So, I’m sorry, but I do what I want.”

 

The mystery boy smirks. I swear, nothing is more infuriating than the way the end of this dude’s lips curl up like he’s the , stealing my words and all. My first instinct is to punch him, but I’d probably end up hurting myself more than him.

 

He still has my phone, I remember. I reach out to grab it from him, but his height definitely gives him the advantage. He’s scrolling through something in my phone, and although I should be frightened, I am not. Seriously, Ahri. Some stranger comes in and takes your phone, and you’re completely immune to it? I guess Taemin was right about me being so careless, after all.

 

The phone suddenly starts to dial someone. I jump, trying to see just who the hell this person is calling. It doesn’t take long for the person on the other end to answer the call. “Ahri? You okay?”

 

Taemin’s voice is as clear as day. Confused, I give the mystery dude an arched eyebrow, hoping he’ll get my message of why-the--did-you-call-Taemin-and-what-relationship-do-you-have-with-him? I realized earlier that he did look like Tae, but I thought it had to be a coincidence.

 

“Hey” is the only thing that comes out of the dude’s mouth. To my surprise, Taemin recognizes the voice instantly. “Jongin? What are you doing with Ahri’s phone? Oh, . Are you at the studio?”

 

Jongin, I guess, replies with a hum of acknowledgement. On the other end, Taemin laughs nervously. “Sorry, man. I forgot to tell you that we hired someone.” I raise my eyebrow. He also forgot to tell me about this beautiful human being of a friend, relative, or whatever he is that he has. I’m not that mad though, seeing how this guy is acting like people should be on their knees for him. “Ahri! Don’t mind Jongin, he comes in after hours sometimes to practice. Even sleeps over there.”

 

After a bunch of jumbled words on Taemin’s behalf, and short lived tunes coming from Jongin’s lips, I finally get my phone back. “See? Exception.”

 

I sigh, feeling defeated and tired. “Whatever, just don’t get in my way.” I still have to mop, since my dance-mopping wasn’t doing much of a job. Unlocking my phone, I decide to give myself at least a little bit of fun. I don’t put on High School Musical again (I kinda felt embarrassed that Jongin pointed it out). Instead, I opt for some trap music, just to prove to him that my music taste is off the charts.

 

The music puts me in a better mood. I instantly resume my mop-dancing, toning it down a little (a lot, actually) just because I’m not alone. I can see Jongin through the mirrors. He’s drinking a bottle of water. I shouldn’t be so fascinated by it, but I am. He may be a douchebag, but he’s a very attractive douchebag.

 

His eyes meet mine through the mirror, and I look away. Heat creeps up my cheeks, and I put my head down so that my hair can cover my face. I continue to mop.

 

As I’m cleaning the floor, I feel Jongin’s eyes watch me. He doesn’t even get up to dance. He just sits there, his deep eyes looking bored and uninterested. It makes me feel self conscious. I try my best not to let my eyes glance at his direction. He hasn’t done a thing, but he insisted on being here. It’s irritating.

 

Maybe he just wants me to leave, so I do. I quickly finish up with what I was doing and leave without a goodbye.

 

As I am walking out, from the corner of my eye, I see him get up.

 

I don’t linger around to watch him dance.

“What’cha doin’?” Naeun, my best friend and Taemin’s girlfriend, asks from the other line.

 

“What do you think I’m doing? I’m reading.” I reply as I turn the page, taking in every single word and imagining the story in my head. I hear her snort, “Nerd.”

 

I glare at my phone, even though I know she can’t see me. “Did you eat yet? Let’s go out and eat. It’s on me.”

 

“No.”

 

Naeun sighs, and I visualize her rolling her eyes. “Stop being stubborn. I’m already outside your door.” Startled, I get out of my bed and run to the front door, not forgetting to bookmark where I left off. I look through the peephole, and there she is. Groaning, I let her in. “Can’t I read in peace?”

 

“No. If you stay in your house you’re just going to be more miserable than you already are, so we are going out to eat, and then we are going to go to the mall before you go to work. Now go and get dressed!” Naeun pushes me towards my room and slams the door behind me.

 

I know she just wants to cheer me up, so I grab my denim high-waisted shorts and a black crop top. I look at myself in the mirror. Although the shorts are high-waisted, the crop top still exposes my stomach. Feeling a little uncomfortable, I strip the crop top off and replace it with a regular white t-shirt and tuck it into my shorts. I can’t seem to wear crop tops anymore.

 

Naeun gives me a look when I emerge out of my room. She sees the abandoned crop top on my bed, and thankfully doesn’t say anything. I’m glad she knows me well enough to give me time to heal.

 

We end up going to my favorite Chinese restaurant. The lunch special is really cheap, and the sweet and sour chicken is fantastic. I feel my mood lighten up, and Naeun helps me forget the memories of this place by talking nonstop about her mini trip to Japan.

 

By the time we finish eating, my ear is as full as my stomach.

“Have fun at work, cutie!” Naeun pulls me into a hug before I get out of her car. She dragged me around the mall for hours and I could feel my legs aching every step I take. I wave to her, and then she drives away.

 

Mrs. Lee is in the middle of a class, so I quietly sneak into the storage room, not wanting to interrupt her. I see her eyes glance to me, and she gives me a smile before focusing back on her teaching.

 

The storage room is just how I left it the other night. There are only a few boxes left that need to be put in organized groups. The floor is still full of dirt, but other than that, the room is pretty clean. I just hope that I can get through this so I can start working at the front desk instead of cleaning. Cleaning isn’t bad, it’s just tiring. It gives me something to think about other than letting my mind run off into different directions, but I’d rather sit my lazy down for a few hours. Maybe I would have time at the front desk to read a book.

 

After hours of cleaning, I watch the class through the two-way mirror in envy. Mrs. Lee is an extraordinary dancer. She’s extremely graceful, and she makes everything look easy. I get lost in her movements, trying to do them justice with my own body.

 

Suddenly I cannot breathe.

 

I collapse onto the floor, trying to catch my breath. Tears start to form in my eyes, but I try to blink them away. I hear the door open, and I grab a paper towel that’s (fortunately) near me and pretend that I’m wiping the floor.

 

“Hey, Ahri! I brought some pizza.”

 

It’s Taemin, I recognize. He’s wearing grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt, proper attire for someone who’s teaching a hip-hop class in an hour. The smell of pizza hits me, and I immediately get myself off of the floor and run to him. As I am getting closer to Taemin, I spot a figure by the door. He sees my eyes drift towards the door. “Oh, I hope you don’t mind sharing with Jongin.”

 

Jongin lets himself into the room. He’s wearing black adidas sweatpants and a black v-neck. His hair is just as fluffy as the first time I saw him. “Hey.”

 

We sit ourselves on the floor, surrounding the pizza and drinks that the guys brought. I immediately go for the lemonade, knowing that it’s definitely for me. “Thanks for the food, Taemin.”

 

“I bought it.” Jongin’s voice startles me. I wasn’t expecting much from him. In fact, I wasn’t expecting anything at all. His presence didn’t throw me off in any way, which is surprising based on our last encounter. “Oh, thanks then.”

 

He mumbles a ‘you’re welcome’ before taking a sip of his orange soda. I glance to Taemin, and he has a weird look on his face. He’s definitely up to something, and I definitely don’t want to know what it is. We eat the pizza in silence, the only source of sound coming from the class in the other room. I avoid looking at them by focusing on the pizza. They basically eat half of the pizza while I only eat two slices. I’m amazed at the amount they’ve practically inhaled into their slim bodies. It’s a good thing they’re dancers.

 

The class next door looks like it’s about to wrap up soon, so we start to clean up. Taemin’s teaching a hip hop class right after his mother’s, so he and Jongin start prepping themselves for it. I watch the smiles creep onto their faces. Their love for dancing shows. I force myself to put in some earphones and look away.

 

I finish cleaning the storage room at the same time Taemin finishes his class. Him and Jongin are covered in sweat, the smell too intense that I have to plug my nose with my fingers. “Jesus, go change. You guys smell like dog piss.”

 

“Not my name, but close enough.” Jongin shrugs. I roll my eyes at him, and he gives me a slight smile before dragging Taemin to the bathroom. I conclude to myself that Jongin isn’t a conceited playboy, but just a very friendly and open guy. I settle myself at the front desk, and wait for dancers to come and pay for classes. The guys come back ten minutes later, looking like they already showered. “I will never get over the fact that guys only need two minutes to shower and girls need like twenty.”

 

“ to be you.” Jongin and Taemin say at the same time. They high-five and chuckle, mumbling about how “great minds think alike” or whatever. They look really similar, I wonder if they're related? Taemin nods, “He’s my cousin, unfortunately.”

 

Jongin elbows his cousin with a smirk on his face. “Oh, shut up. You love me.”

 

I tune out of their conversation, because dancers were starting to sign up for the last class of the day. I take their names and the mandatory class fee of $10. Taemin tells me that him and Jongin are leaving, and that Jongin will be back after hours again. I tell him to get me a strawberry banana smoothie or I’m not letting him in.

 

Sure enough, Jongin comes back with two smoothies for the two of us. I mutter a thanks to him, immediately sipping the cold drink. It’s my favorite drink, I realize, and I look to him in awe. If he guessed, I’d be pretty amazed. Taemin probably told him, that it’s my favorite though, so I cover up the heart eyed look I just gave him with a cough. Like last time, he doesn’t get in my way while I’m mopping the floor to the Moana soundtrack.

 

“Do you want me to clean the mirrors?”

 

I give him a shrug, and he immediately gets the supplies. Surprisingly enough, I don’t feel uncomfortable around him. I just mind my own business and continue to dance-mop as usual. We finish in no time, allowing me to slurp down my smoothie until there’s nothing left. I get my stuff ready to go back home, but Jongin’s voice stops me from opening the door. “Why don’t you stay?”

 

“I just-”

 

“I could really use some constructive criticism.”

 

Not knowing how to say no, I plop down to the floor. I can see Jongin’s lips curl up just a bit. “Why not practice at your house?”

 

“My room is right above my parents, and they complain that they can’t sleep when I dance.” Jongin begins to stretch, amazing me by his flexibility. I don’t ask him any further questions. While he’s stretching, I text my father that I’ll be a little late and scroll through every social media account on my phone. “Are you auditioning for something?”

 

“Yeah, I’m switching majors for college from business to dance. I need a bomb- audition to be able to get into the program.” He walks towards me and takes my phone out of my hands before I’m able to say anything. A soft piano plays on the speakers, and I get my phone back.

 

I’m tempted to not even look at him dance and tell him that he’s great, but something about Jongin pulls my eyes towards him. He starts off with his fingers mimicking a pianist, matching the piano notes from the song. I didn’t know something so simple could be so graceful.

 

Jongin is an extraordinary dancer. He’s sharp in just the right places, and loose when he needs to be. His facials show so much emotion, and he looks like a part of a story. He doesn’t miss a beat, and I have nothing to say when he’s finished. Usually when I watch someone dancing, it brings me into the darkness. With Jongin, I feel a lightness in my heart, and I can actually breathe.

 

“Was it that bad?” Jongin’s voice startles me, the deepness of it contrasting with the elegance of the dance I just witnessed. I realize that I’m gaping at him. “It was great.”

 

The dancer sighs and plops himself down next to me. “Great isn’t good enough.”

 

“No, Jongin. It was perfect.” I tell him all my observations to convince him that I’m not just telling him he’s good to make him feel better about himself. His dancing was perfect from start to beginning, and I hope he believes my words.

 

“You really think I’ll make it in?” Jongin’s voice is full of so much hope, and I’m glad to be able to tell him with full confidence that I know he’ll be accepted.

After a very long day of taking people’s names and money at the front desk, I finally get the whole studio to myself. I immediately turn on a random playlist on my phone and jam out to the songs while mopping the floor. Jongin comes in not long after everyone has left, and turns to go get the supplies to clean the mirror. It’s like this unspoken agreement that we’ve made.

 

“So I’ve been curious,” Jongin starts. I look to him with an arch brow, wondering what he’s been curious about. He’s been sitting on the bench since he got here, just watching me mop the floor as I usually do. “Taemin said that you’re a really good dancer, but whenever I come, you’re not dancing. You’re just fooling around.”

 

I feel my body freeze. I know where Jongin is going, but I’m not sure if I’m ready to talk about it. I try to come up with a vague answer and hope Jongin gets that I don’t want to talk about it. “Uh, yeah. I decided to take a break.”

 

“I asked Taemin about it, and he said something about your ex-boyfriend.”

 

My heart plummets to the ground and I think about ripping out all of Taemin’s precious hair. Although I’ve come to know Jongin as a very blunt, straightforward person, it still surprised me that he could just ask about it like it’s nothing.

 

“So, what about your ex-boyfriend made you take a break?”

 

I sigh. Jongin’s concerned behavior makes me want to talk to him about it, but it’s not like I’ve known him for a long time. These moments when we’re together are just tiny fragmentations of time, not enough time for me to fully be comfortable with talking about this. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

 

“Okay, then we won't talk about it.” Jongin says, and I thank God for giving me such an understanding friend.

 

I’ve spent the past month sitting down and watching Jongin dance. Something about him just calms me down and makes me forget everything. Sometimes we goof around together, and sometimes I give him a dance to learn and he learns it right in front of me. It’s so nice to have a connection between something I loved doing, and someone who loves doing it.

 

“What time is your audition tomorrow?” I ask, finishing up with the last corner of the room.

 

“5:30.”

 

“Are you nervous?”

 

He pauses for a second, lowering his arm to hang by his side. He thinks about it for a second, then gives me his signature smile. “You said I’ll get in, so I’m not worried at all.”

 

Every part of my body has just been itching to dance.

 

I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve done it properly. Watching Jongin these past two months have made me miss it in more ways than I thought was possible. After Jongin got accepted into the dance program, I’ve been more envious of him and his abilities. The competitive side of me woke up after so many months of being asleep, and I’ve been wanting to prove that I can dance, too. Reluctantly, I turn on my old dance playlist and head to the middle of the studio. I recognize every beat, and my feet move by themselves. The feeling is so familiar. I let myself get lost in the music, my body singing to every note that emits from the speakers.

 

The feeling doesn’t last long. My body freezes, like I’ve been stuck in a freezer for the whole night. The bad memories resurface in my mind and I feel my legs give up. I collapse onto the floor.

 

“You’re confusing.”

 

Jongin’s voice brings me back to reality. I turn to his direction. He’s wearing a red and white striped t-shirt with black shorts. His hair is disheveled, as always, and he definitely looks very confused. “What do you mean?”

 

He runs a hand through his hair, “You just–I don’t get it. You clearly look like you want to dance. It hurts me just to look at you.”

 

I decide to tell him everything. Jongin scooches over to make room for me on the couch, and I sit next to him, the warmth of his body calming me down. I think about the past year, and my hands feel like there are ants crawling all over them.

 

“He always told me who to be, you know?” I start, not having to say his name for Jongin to know who I’m talking about. “He would tell me to cover up, and he would get mad at me for wearing makeup. Every time I talked to someone, he’d get mad. It didn’t matter if it was a guy or a girl. If it was a guy, he’d be paranoid of losing me. If it was a girl, he’d be scared of her being a bad influence on me. My whole first year in college was so lonely. He always said that he felt bad about me not having friends, but he’s the reason why I distance myself from everyone.

 

“When I auditioned for a dance team, he supported me. He even drove me to a dance studio every day so I can take classes and practice for the audition. When I made the team, he just exploded. He was scared by the amount of guys that I would be dancing with. We fought every single time I went to practice. He kept calling me a , , and , and he told me to quit. I kept telling him that it wasn’t about the guys on the team, it was about the dancing, but he didn’t understand. He said that if I wanted to dance, I don't have to dance with them, I can just dance with him. I just–fighting was so tiring. We finally realized that we aren’t good for each other, so we broke up.” I finish lamely. My heart aches. Reliving all of those painful memories took a toll on me.

 

“That doesn’t explain why you quit dancing. If you guys broke up, then you have the freedom to dance without him calling you names or getting mad at you.”

 

My throat clogs up, and it’s getting harder to talk. “My love for dancing is what ruined our relationship. I agreed to work here so I can try to dance again, but no matter how hard I try, I just remember all of the fights we had and I can't do it. I–I still love him, and I keep finding myself trying to be who he wanted me to be.”

 

“Wanting to be someone else is a waste of who you are.”

 

Silence fills up the room, and I let Jongin’s words repeat in my head. I look at myself in the mirror, taking in all of my features. I’ve spent the past year hating myself for not living up to his expectations. I’ve spent so much time trying to become who he wanted me to be. Who am I now that he’s out of my life?

 

“I don’t know who I am anymore.” I whisper, finally admitting it to myself. My eyes can’t hold in all the tears, so I just let them drop down my cheek. Warmth cups the side of my face, and Jongin brushes the tears away. “You can find out by dancing again.”

 

Jongin’s lips curve up into a soft smile. I feel comforted by his words and his actions. His hand is hot against my skin, and it pulls me out of the coldness that found its home inside of me. I find myself agreeing to his suggestion.

 

“Okay.”